Кит Мори - Deathly Wind

‘Just hold it where you are,’ he rasped, his bloodied hands clenching a gun. ‘Things are not – quite – finished!’

Ralph McLelland broke just about every speed restriction on the island and arrived at the Wee Kingdom jetty within ten minutes of the Padre’s call. Together with Katrina and Morag he stretchered the big police constable into the converted ambulance and drove straight to the cottage hospital. There, Sister Lamb and Nurse Anderson set about cleaning him up while Ralph took blood samples in order to determine his clinical state and electrolyte balance.

‘He is dangerously dehydrated and still stuporose,’ Ralph told Katrina. ‘I’ll monitor him for a few hours to get him stable, but I have every faith that he will be on his feet in a week or so. Ewan McPhee is one of the strongest men I have ever known, but surviving this long on just sips of water has taken it out of his system.’ He shook his head as he looked down at the haggard redheaded constable. ‘I don’t think many folk could have survived his ordeal.’

Katrina heaved an enormous sigh of relief then turned to Morag. ‘And I think that you will want to have my account of all this?’

Morag’s spirits had gone from rock bottom to sky high upon discovering that one of her best friends was still alive. Now, as an officer of the law she snapped into professional mode. ‘My thoughts exactly, Miss Tulloch. And I think it would be best if you accompanied me to the station to make your statement.’

Wallace Drummond had been on his way to the Wee Kingdom when he saw Alistair McKinley’s jeep pulled off the road by the rough track that led up to the Corlins. He had a good idea of where he would find the crofter, so he coaxed the police Ford Escort along the track and duly found him preparing to climb the cliff face.

‘Alistair McKinley,’ Wallace said, as he let the window down. ‘I have already told you that you are not permitted to have a gun at the moment. You will give it to me now.’

The crofter shook his head, his face determined. ‘Leave me alone, Wallace Drummond. I have something that needs to be done. I am going to shoot those bloody golden eagles.’

But Wallace was out of the car and with a couple of quick strides he caught hold of the bag carrying the gun that Alistair had about his shoulders. He slipped it off and held it behind him. ‘And I am telling you that you will do nothing of the sort. There has been enough killing as it is. I am taking this gun and you back to the station with me. My boss, Inspector McKinnon says he wants to talk to you.’

‘Put the gun down, Vincent,’ Torquil said. ‘You need medical treatment for that wound and you need it now.’

Blood was oozing from the wound in Vincent’s abdomen and had soaked his trousers.

‘I’m not worried about myself, Inspector,’ he said, his voice losing power all the time. ‘I am more concerned about that piece of excrement there.’ He hesitated to gulp some air. ‘He has a history of atrocities that you wouldn’t believe. He liked to hurt people and watch them squirm. And he’s murdered folk without batting an eyelid. I plan to be his judge, jury and executioner.’

‘You can’t do that, Vincent. That would make you a murderer, too.’

‘I don’t matter any more,’ he breathed. He gestured with the gun in his hand at Calum. ‘Put that camera and your recording machine on the floor and switch them off.’

Torquil nodded to Calum, who acquiesced and laid down his digital camera and his Dictaphone.

‘That’s good, because I don’t want any more of this being recorded,’ Vincent said wheezily. ‘I made a fool of myself with … a young woman last night. I never thought I would have a relationship with anyone after Rhona – especially not after she tossed me aside for Geordie Morrison.’

He coughed and his frame shook. Perspiration was pouring from his brow and he wiped it away with the back of his left hand.

‘Who was this woman?’ Torquil asked. ‘Was it Megan Munro?’

‘Aye, and I feel bloody guilty about it. But we were … attracted to one another … and she was probably using me against her man, Nial Urquart.’

Then he shook his head emphatically. ‘But like I said, none of that matters now.’ He stabbed the gun in the direction of the still unconscious Giuseppe Cardini. ‘It is about him coming back into our lives. I thought that I had broken free from the Dragonetti gang and their ugly world of death and violence when Rhona helped to stage my disappearance and set me up with a croft here twenty years ago.’ His eyes seemed to mist over. ‘Clever woman, Rhona. She persuaded the old lady who owned it – she was ill and dying, ironically after a heart attack – to pass it on to me as if I was a relative. She sorted out my new identity, national insurance number, absolutely everything.’

Cardini began to stir as he made a slow return to consciousness.

Vincent rallied at the sight and aimed the gun at him. ‘He deserves to die!’ he exclaimed.

‘The law will deal with him, Vincent. Don’t do anything stupid.’

Cardini heaved himself up on his elbows, his eyes suddenly widening with alarm when he saw the gun in the hand of the blood-soaked Vincent. He gasped in horror as he realized he was staring death in the face.

The gun-hand began to waver and Vincent’s eyes started to roll upwards. ‘At … at least … I can now—’

Suddenly, as if every last ounce of energy had been used up, he slumped sideways and the gun fell from his hand.

Torquil swiftly produced handcuffs and cuffed Cardini. Then he and Calum turned their attention to Vincent. A quick examination failed to find a pulse and the enlarging pool of blood suggested that resuscitation would be hopeless. Nevertheless, while Calum called for medical assistance Torquil attempted cardio-pulmonary resuscitation.

By the time that Ralph McLelland had arrived, it was all too clear that the man they knew as Gilfillan was truly dead.

Giuseppe Cardini had been watching all that time, cursing them and making scathing comments. Now, he tossed his head back and began to roar with laughter. ‘That serves them all—’

He suddenly went silent as Calum Steele seemed accidentally to trip, and kicked him the groin.

Neither Torquil nor Ralph McLelland saw it happen.

Katrina sipped the hot tea that Morag had brewed back at the station.

‘I really liked him, Sergeant!’ she explained. ‘Ewan, I mean. But Kenneth McKinley just wouldn’t leave me alone, and Ewan started to get jealous and suspicious. It is all my fault.’

‘Why do you say fault? ’ Morag asked, as she jotted things down with her silver pen.

Katrina put the mug down, her expression a mix of pain and guilt. ‘Because Kenneth was working for me, and it all got out of hand. He was working … clandestinely.’

Morag raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘Go on.’

‘You have no idea how hard it is to make a living as a vet in the Hebrides. I was in debt up to my ears. I had a colossal student loan to pay back, and even working abroad in the East for a couple of years didn’t make much inroad into it. When I took over my uncle’s practice I didn’t realize that I’d be taking over his debt as well. He’d mismanaged things in a most appalling manner – as well as having a personal debt of several thousands with his gambling.’ She looked beseechingly at Morag for some sign of sympathy. ‘I was desperate and I had to make money as fast and as quickly as I could. There was no legal way I could do that.’

Morag made a conscious effort not to let her face register any sense of judgement. She had to let Katrina willingly offer the information. ‘And so what did you do?’